


The Kings and the Reunion

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [28]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Thorin, Angst, Drama, Guilty Bilbo, Jealous Thranduil, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:19:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our naughty Bilbo is having an attack of conscience after that incident in the brothel in my last story.  He goes to rejoin the two kings in Erebor with an apology on his lips, but I’m afraid that a sticking-plaster is unlikely to patch things up, and his attempts at explaining his actions might not help, making Thorin angrier and Thranduil even more jealous than the two were before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the Reunion

 

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and the Reunion

 

Pt I

 

_‘When shall we three meet again?’_

It was some weeks since Thorin and Thranduil had set out from Rivendell, a welcome resting place as they had travelled back to Erebor after visiting Dis in Ered Luin.  And they had certainly needed the rest!  They had been captured by traders and sold to a brothel in Bree from which they had been freed by Bilbo and his magic ring.  All three had made for Rivendell and the help of Lord Elrond.  Now the two kings were long gone but Bilbo had remained in the elven stronghold, unable to face a return to Bag End.

 

He awoke early that particular morning and lay in bed thinking.  No, he couldn’t go back to his cosy hobbit hole, not when he knew that he owed Thorin a huge apology.  He had already apologised for his dreadful mistake once, for not realising that Thorin was Thorin, but it wasn’t enough, not under the circumstances it wasn’t.  He had gone to the brothel as a customer and had bought a dwarf for the night because he couldn’t stop thinking of Thorin.  And, unfortunately, it wasn’t until after the – ahem – event that he had realised who the dwarf was and had hurried to set both Thorin and Thranduil free.

 

Except…….

 

……the trouble was…….

 

……the mistake hadn’t been a mistake.  He _had_ realised it was Thorin and had gone ahead anyway as the king had lain face down, chained on the bed.  That’s why a proper confession and a grovelling apology were due to the dwarven king.  Now that he had found his courage, he would set out for Erebor straight away.

 

.o00o.

 

For more than a month, as they journeyed towards Erebor, and even after they had arrived back at the Lonely Mountain, Thorin and Thranduil had been arguing about Bilbo – or, rather, Thranduil had been firing off an incessant string of accusations.

 

_Surely, Thorin, you knew it was him?_

_Surely he knew it was you?_

_Why didn’t you fight and yell and try to shake him off?_

_How big is his prick?  Bigger than mine?_

_You came, didn’t you?  How could you?_

_Was it better with him than with me?_

Thranduil’s questions went on and on and Thorin’s responses got more and more irritable.  In the end, he began to counter these questions with similar ones of his own about the brawny man who had been fucking the elven king when he and Bilbo had come to his rescue.  Thorin just wanted his lover to see how foolish he was being: instead, Thranduil became very upset at being reminded of the brutal attack that the man had made on him.  “It was all right for you,” he wept.  “You just got Bilbo.  I got that awful thug and I shall never forget the experience.”

 

“But, I didn’t _know_ it was Bilbo at the time,” retorted Thorin in exasperation.  “It was still a horrible experience for me too, having a stranger with a big prick assault me like that.”

 

“So, he does have a big prick!” shouted Thranduil.  “I knew it!  Goes with the enormous feet!”

 

“And it made things even worse when we recognised each other.  Bilbo is a friend and this incident has opened a gap between us.”

 

“Good thing too,” snapped the elf.  “The bigger the gap the better.  That runty little creature has been dying to get his sticky hands on you from the first day he met you.”

 

“Don’t exaggerate,” growled the dwarf in return.  “He disliked me, I reckon, right up until that hug on the Carrock.”

 

Thranduil sat bolt upright in bed.  “What hug on the Carrock?” he snarled.  “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

 

“Yes, I have,” sighed Thorin.  “I told you about it when we went on holiday that time.”

 

The elf folded his arms.  “Well, I must have wiped such an unpleasant image from my memory.  So, tell me again!”

 

“We were at loggerheads from the moment we set out from Bag End because I didn’t want him with us but Gandalf did.  I was always shouting at him, accusing him of being a burden and a danger to our quest and my men.  And then he saved my life and nearly lost his own in the process.  I was so overwhelmed that I gave him a hug.  He seemed to enjoy it and it was that night that he crawled into my bed roll.  I soon set him right, though.”

 

“Really?” sneered Thranduil.  “In the light of what happened between you in Bree, I’m not quite sure that I believe you.”

 

“And what are you implying?” shouted Thorin, also sitting up in bed. “That I let him fuck me on both occasions?”

 

“Just my opinion,” replied the elf in that aloof and snotty manner that Thorin hated so much.

 

Thorin threw his hands up in despair and got out of bed.  Thranduil scrambled out after him and grabbed him by the shoulder.  “Where are you going?” he demanded.  “How dare you leave my bed in the middle of an argument?!”

 

“I dare because there’s no reasoning with you!” exclaimed the dwarf angrily.  “Now let go of me!”  And he shrugged the elf free from his shoulder and pulled on his robe.

 

Thranduil stood with his back to the door and hissed: “I said that you weren’t going! Not until you’ve told me all your secrets and lies!”

 

“There are no secrets and I’ve told you no lies!” yelled Thorin.  “Bilbo became my friend on that long journey from Bag End and there was nothing sexual between us.  He even helped to bring us two together after I survived the Battle of the Five Armies.  And the incident in the brothel was a mistake.”  And he moved to push Thranduil out of the way.

 

But the elven king’s hand shot out and, grasping him by the back of the neck, he pulled him tightly to his breast.  “I’m sorry, Thorin,” he whispered.  “But you know how jealous I get and I can’t bear the thought of that wretched hobbit touching you and – and – penetrating you and making you come and emptying himself inside you.  It totally disgusts me.”

 

The dwarf reached up and tenderly stroked his lover’s smooth cheek.  “It was all a mistake,” he said again gently, “and you must learn to put that night behind you.  I have forgiven him and so must you.”

 

“Make love to me, Thorin,” mumbled the elf, “and help me to forget.  I know it was all a horrible misunderstanding but that still doesn’t ease the pain.”

 

The dwarven king smiled and kissed the end of his nose: “Oh, Thranduil!  What shall we do with you?”

 

“Fuck me till my teeth rattle?” was the elf’s modest proposal.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

_“In thunder, lightning, or in rain?”_

It was some weeks later and Thranduil had, indeed, tried his very best to put things behind him.  He had done his stint in Mirkwood and was now back in Erebor with Thorin again.  And, this time, no mention of the ‘Three Bs’ – Bilbo, Bree, Brothel – had passed his lips.  They were both feeling a lot happier and it seemed as if the thunderclouds had passed.

 

Bilbo, meanwhile, had nearly reached The Lonely Mountain.

 

He had had plenty of time to think – and to think honestly – about his relationship with, and his feelings for, Thorin.  And they weren’t happy thoughts.  He remembered the moment when he had first set eyes on the dwarven prince – as he was then - in Hobbiton:  the Company were already assembled in his home at Bag End, eating, drinking and quarrelling, when there had come a commanding knock at the door.  The authority of it had been such that an immediate silence had fallen upon the riotous group and they had looked expectantly from one to the other.

 

When Thorin had entered, he seemed to fill the whole room with his presence.  And when he spoke, his deep voice had sent shivers up and down Bilbo’s spine.  The little hobbit had been unable to drag his eyes away from his beautiful face and form and the only reason why he had finally gone on what frankly sounded like a terrifying adventure was because he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing this magnetic, princely leader again.

 

But, the relationship had got off to a bad start.  Thorin was always shouting at him and making him feel _that_ small.  He was unnecessary, unwelcome and unwanted; but, at least all the time that he was being shouted at, the dwarf was noticing him.  And Bilbo had begun to feel a perverse – even an erotic – pleasure in his scorn.  That deep, angry voice growling at him made him quiver – and it wasn’t with fear.  After one particularly vicious verbal assault, he found himself hiding amongst the trees, rubbing his stiff prick with his hand until he had come.  The satisfaction had been intense and, from then on, he had looked for other opportunities to be on his own and fantasise about the dwarven prince.

 

Bilbo broke out of these reveries for a moment and shifted rather uncomfortably on his horse as he remembered his unrequited passion.  He was emerging from Mirkwood and approaching the great plain of Erebor.  Nearly there.  And he glanced up at the sky at the huge black clouds that threatened a storm.  And then he remembered the hug.

 

Ah, yes, The Hug: one of the highlights of his life.  He had saved Thorin from Azog and, as usual, the prince had begun shouting at him for his stupidity and folly.   He had bowed his head and let his words wash over him in a sensuous tide.  Then suddenly and unexpectedly, Thorin had wrapped him in his arms.  The sensation nearly overwhelmed him.

 

He could remember the smell of him and that silky beard tickling his face and the strength of those powerful arms and that wide, muscular chest against which he was crushed.  He had wanted to stay there forever, locked in that warm embrace.  When Thorin had finally released him and looked down at him out of his wonderful blue eyes, his heart had danced with joy.  Perhaps, he thought rather over optimistically as it turned out, the dwarf was beginning to feel drawn to him as he was to the dwarf.

 

For a whole day, Thorin had smiled at him and spoken kindly to him.  In the end, Bilbo’s wishful thinking had persuaded him that the dwarf was sending him a message and, that night, he had crept beneath his bed roll.  The prince was naked and fast asleep and, having shown restraint for so long, the hobbit’s hands were suddenly everywhere.

 

Thorin began to stir and, Bilbo, afraid that he would miss his chance, dipped his head below the blanket and sucked the dwarf’s member into his mouth.   The dwarven prince flung back the blanket and, in the moonlight, captured the startling image of a hobbit with a mouthful of cock gazing up at him rather apprehensively.

 

“Bilbo!” he snarled.  “What on Middle-earth do you think you are doing?”

 

Nope, thought Bilbo with a measure of disappointment.  All those smiles and kind words had not concealed a secret message to him.  And, reluctantly releasing the cock, he scuttled back to his own bedroll.

 

The following day had been a bit uncomfortable but, they had entered Mirkwood where all except Bilbo had been made captives of the elven king.  And, in the dungeons, using his magic ring, he had seen a sexual relationship developing between the elf and the dwarf which had filled him with jealousy.  However, he had helped them escape and, suddenly he was back in Thorin’s good books again.

 

But, all that he could do was worship the dwarf from afar.  And, when, after the Battle of the Five Armies, he saw the intensity of Thorin and Thranduil’s relationship, he had resignedly packed up and gone home.

 

He hadn’t even gone to the wedding: he couldn’t bear it.  But, when he had heard about a dwarf and an elf in the Bree brothel, soon after the two kings had passed through Hobbiton, then he had guessed correctly who they were.  And he had genuinely gone to their aid.  But, when he had seen Thorin chained, naked, to the bed, face down and helpless to resist………

 

His memories were interrupted as the storm broke overhead and the heavens opened.  He was a mile away from the gates of Erebor.  _And I shall arrive looking like a drowned rat,_ he thought.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

_“When the hurlyburly’s done.”_

Thorin peered out from his balcony at the storm.  It was bucketing down and Thranduil had gone out hunting earlier that morning.  He was bound to return bad-tempered and very wet.  He had been soaked to the skin himself after a visit to Dale and he was just tightening a velvet dressing gown around himself after a good, hot bath. The door opened behind him and he turned, expecting to see the elf lord entering the room.  Instead, what looked like a drowned rat stood hesitantly on the threshold.

 

“Umm, hello.  It’s me,” said Bilbo.  “May I come in?”

 

“Bilbo!” exclaimed the king.  And, for a moment, his heart sank because he wasn’t certain whether or not he wanted to see him.  “This is a surprise!  What are you doing here?”

 

“Well, erm, I need to talk to you about something – something important,” he muttered as he stood there with water pouring off him and leaving a puddle on the floor.

 

“I think we need to get you out of those clothes,” said Thorin, all hearty concern, and then wished he hadn’t expressed it that way.  And he led him to the bathing pool and produced one of his own robes, knee-length by design but doubtless ankle-length on Bilbo.  “Here you go,” he said.  “Now, you have a good, hot soak and then you’ll feel more like.”  And he politely backed out from the room to wait for him elsewhere.  There was a tension in the air that hadn’t existed before the incident in Bree.

 

Bilbo lay in the warm water for quite some time, wondering if he had the courage to tell Thorin the truth about that night in the brothel.  He foresaw violence, just like that moment on the walls of Erebor when the king, realising that he had stolen the Arkenstone and given it to his enemies, had raised him above his head in powerful arms and had nearly cast him down upon the rocks below. 

 

Why, at that time, had he returned to Erebor when Bard and Thranduil had begged him to stay rather than face Thorin’s wrath?  Perhaps it was because he actually thought he needed to be punished.  And he still remembered the thrill as Thorin’s great hands had gripped him and he had awaited his fate.  And he felt the same way now.  In fact, he deserved to be punished even more than when he had taken the Arkenstone: at least, then, he had acted with a noble purpose.  But, the Bree incident had been a totally selfish matter.

 

When he had walked into this room and had seen the dwarf once more, his heart had given a little leap.  But, now he had to confront him with the truth.  He climbed slowly out of the pool and wrapped Thorin’s robe about him.  Then, apprehensively, he went in search of him. 

 

Thorin was in the dining-room, drinking a glass of wine.  The king held up the bottle enquiringly but Bilbo shook his head.  Best to remain sober.  Then, he plunged straight in.

 

“I need to talk about that night in Bree,” he said stoutly and to the point.

 

Thorin rose immediately to his feet.  “Well, I don’t,” he replied.  “So, I wish you’d leave the matter alone.”

 

“I can’t,” pleaded the little hobbit, “because there’s a lot more to say.”

 

“No, there isn’t,” snapped the king.  “It’s all been said.  And Thranduil wouldn’t let the subject alone all the way back to Erebor.”

 

Bilbo stepped forward and tried to take Thorin by the arm but the dwarf snatched it away.  “Enough!” he commanded and, looking quite distressed, he backed away from the hobbit and, entering the bedroom, tried to shut the door behind him.  But, moving quickly, Bilbo managed to shoulder his way in after him.

 

“I have _got_ to say this,” he reaffirmed.  And Thorin stood there with a frozen expression on his face as if he half-guessed what was coming.  In the silence that followed, Bilbo blurted out:  “That night, I knew it was you!  I knew it was you and I still fucked you!”

 

“What?!” growled Thorin.

 

“I came to the brothel, guessing it was you and Thranduil.  I meant to rescue you, but when I saw you spreadeagled on the bed, I couldn’t help but fuck you.”

 

There: he had said it.  He stared wide-eyed at Thorin and Thorin stared back.  Then, with a roar, the king picked him up and flung him across the bed.  He bounced once on the mattress and then smashed hard against the far wall and dropped to the floor.  Dazedly, he clawed at the bedding and pulled himself back onto the bed whilst Thorin, crawling across the coverlet to meet him head on, grabbed him angrily by the collar of his robe and prepared to strike him in the face.

 

And, then of course, right on cue, a sopping wet Thranduil walked into the room.

 

As if turned to stone, everyone stopped what they were doing.  Bilbo and Thorin closed their eyes and thought, “Oh, shit!”  whilst Thranduil gazed, stunned, at the tableau on the bed.  The dwarf and the hobbit were kneeling almost nose to nose and the cords of their loose robes had come undone, so that their clothing hung free and exposed half of their bodies.  Thorin was clasping Bilbo about the neck and Bilbo was pawing at Thorin.  It all looked very suspicious.

 

“Catching up with each other?” asked Thranduil in icy tones.  Then he marched out of the room, banging the door behind him.  Neither of the two on the bed moved from their positions until they heard the outer door bang as well.  Then Thorin collapsed back on the pillows, one hand over his eyes.

 

“You’d better get after him,” said Bilbo helpfully.

 

“And I don’t need you to tell me that,” snapped Thorin, reaching for fresh clothes which were folded by the side of the bed.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

_“When the battle’s lost and won.”_

At least Thranduil had listened to him when he finally caught up with him, halfway to his palace in Mirkwood.  When he wouldn’t stop but galloped on, Thorin had leaned over from his own horse and grabbed the bridle of Thranduil’s mount, dragging him to a halt.  Then he had pulled him from the saddle and held him tightly in his arms.  “Do you or don’t you want to hear why we were having a fight on the bed and why I was about to punch Bilbo on the nose?” he snarled.

 

Thranduil stopped struggling and blinked.  “You were having a fight?” he asked.

 

Thorin tutted.  “And what did _you_ think we were doing?  Indulging in a bit of rough foreplay before we made mad, passionate love?”

 

“Umm……” muttered the elf, suddenly feeling a bit silly but also experiencing a certain sense of relief.  “Ummm…….so what were you fighting about, then?”

 

“That night in Bree.  Bilbo had just confessed that he had actually known it was me chained on that bed but that he had fucked me anyway.”

 

Thranduil had gone berserk at that point and Thorin had needed to use all his strength to restrain him.  The stream of obscenities had hurt his ears.  It had taken some time to calm the elf down but now they were having a very satisfying fuck on the grass.  Thranduil let out a loud groan as the dwarf came deep inside him and collapsed in an exhausted heap.  “I’ll kill him tomorrow,” he yawned.

 

“Oh, no, you won’t,” said Thorin.  “We shall continue on to your palace tonight and stay there a week.  I shall write a letter to Bilbo saying that we have forgiven him – but that it might be a good idea if he went home.”

 

“Well, I don’t want to forgive him,” muttered Thranduil sullenly.

 

“But, I think we should,” replied the dwarf.  “If it hadn’t been for Bilbo, not only might we still be in that brothel but we might never have finished up together in the first place.  He put our love before his own feelings and showed you the way to win my heart.”

 

The elven king snuggled into Thorin’s chest.  “Spoil sport,” he said sleepily.  “And I was so looking forward to doing that little runt an injury.”  And then he was snoring.

 

_Thank goodness for that_ , the dwarf sighed with relief.

 

.o00o.

 

Bilbo was down in the great dining hall of Erebor, sitting in a quiet corner and reading and rereading Thorin’s letter.  “Why so glum?” smiled Dwalin, plonking himself down next to him.  And he poured a mug of wine and pushed it in front of the hobbit.  Bilbo had already got through a bottle but he picked up the mug anyway.

 

“It’s from Thorin,” he replied, waving the parchment around.  The wine had loosened his tongue.  “He’s staying in Mirkwood for a week and doesn’t want me here when he gets back.”  And he gave a lugubrious sigh.

 

“Goodness!” exclaimed Dwalin, his brows furrowing.  “What naughty thing have you done, then?  The mind boggles!”  And he gave a guffaw as he tried and failed to think of something so bad that Bilbo was banished from Thorin’s presence.  After all, weren’t they the best of friends?

 

“Something so very, very naughty that you’ll never guess,” was the response.  “I imagined that Thorin had told you all about it, you being so close and all.”

 

“No,” said Dwalin, leaning forward curiously.  “I’ve hardly seen him since he came back from that trip to Ered Luin.”

 

“So, he hasn’t told you about that brothel in Bree?” Bilbo asked a bit drunkenly.

 

“Brothel!” laughed Dwalin.  “What on earth did he want with one of those?”

 

“Well, actually, it was a case of what they wanted with him,” came the gloomy reply.  “He and Thranduil were captured by traders and they were sold to the brothel at Bree.”

 

“No!” gasped the big dwarf in a horrified whisper.

 

“And when I heard they had a dwarf and an elf, I guessed it might be our two kings and so I went to the rescue.”

 

“Good man!” exclaimed Dwalin.  But, then he frowned.  “But, how does this make you the villain of the piece?”

 

“Because,” Bilbo said quietly, “before I released him from where he was chained face-down on a bed, I took advantage of him and fucked him.  I couldn’t resist the temptation.”  Another big sigh escaped him.  “I lied to Thorin afterwards, saying that I hadn’t realised it was him – and he forgave me.”

 

He half-expected Dwalin to thump him too and was surprised when the dwarf put a consoling hand on his shoulder.  “So, I suppose you came here to confess the truth.  You know, Bilbo, we all have our guilty secrets and my own secret about Thorin came home to roost in the end.  You just have to grit your teeth and take it like a man – or a hobbit.”  And he knocked back a big mug of wine.

 

“Thorin nearly killed me,” Bilbo replied with a wan smile.  “And I’m expecting Thranduil to come and beat me up, if and when he finds out.”  Then he sized Dwalin up with a quirk of the eyebrow.  “What was your secret, then?”

 

“Same as yours,” came the blunt reply.  “I fucked Thorin – or, rather, Thorin fucked me and we were worried that Thranduil would find out.  I wish we had been honest, like you, and had told him the truth.  As it was, he found out by accident and beat us both up.  Thorin nearly lost him, you know.  But, it all blew over in the end, just like it will do for you.”

 

Bilbo was staring at him intently.  “What’s it like being fucked by Thorin?” he finally asked.

 

“What do you think?” Dwalin asked with a big grin.

 

“Oh, the envy,” sighed the hobbit.  And both of them sat there for a bit, remembering the time they had spent with the king.

 

“So,” said Dwalin at last.  “Are you going home immediately or are you staying for the week?”

 

“I think I’ll stay for the week – I might even bump into Thorin on the way back and perhaps we can smooth things over.”

 

“Have you got a room here?” asked Dwalin solicitously.  “You can always share mine.”

 

“Yes, I’d like that,” smiled the hobbit.  “I reckon we’ve got a lot in common.”

 

“Come on then,” said Dwalin clapping him on the shoulder.  “Let’s take this bottle back to my apartment.”  And the two walked together out of the hall.

 

“Feel like a fuck?” asked the dwarf.

 

“Wouldn’t mind,” replied Bilbo.  “As long as I can call you Thorin.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” laughed Dwalin.  “I think I’ll call you Thorin too……Top or bottom?”

 

“Oh, bottom I think, especially if you’re pretending to be Thorin.  You can show me how he did it.”  And, chatting happily together, they walked arm in arm down the corridor.

 

.o00o.

 

   

**Hope that tied up a few loose ends for people, LOL!  I’m afraid I’ve never been a big fan of Bilbo and perhaps I’ve been a bit mean, but at least I’ve given him a good time with Dwalin in the coming week.  Perhaps they will cheer each other up a bit since they can’t have what they really, really want.**

**Thinking hard about how to continue my Thorinduil stories and wondering if I should elaborate on this scenario!**

 

 

**Previous story: The Kings and the Brothel.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
